Good Times Never Seemed So Good
by itsactuallycorrine
Summary: A collection of Puckleberry drabbles
1. Thunderclap

**Prompt: **The evolution of Puckleberry through their high school yearbooks.

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><p>'08 Thunderclap:<p>

Noah, we've finally made it through 8th grade and are one step closer to getting out of Lima forever! I'm so glad that we made up after your ill-advised relationship with Santana Lopez and you can talk to me again, even if it is just at Temple or at our respective homes. I can't imagine a world where we aren't best friends. See you in HIGH SCHOOL! – Rachel Berry *

R – Have a good summer. NP

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><p>'09 Thunderclap:<p>

Noah (and, yes, I'm always going to call you Noah, even if you DO prefer Puck now) I miss you. – Rachel Berry *

Berry, I wouldn't be caught dead signing this shit if your dad hadn't come crying to my mom. You suck. – PUCK

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><p>'10 Thunderclap<p>

Noah, I know this was a hard year for you, but I'm so proud of your continued emotional development. Now that we've grown closer, I hope we continue down our road to repairing our past relationship. I know you said we weren't friends before, but I don't believe that. I choose not to believe it, because you, Noah Puckerman, will always be my friend. Feel free to contact me if you need someone sympathetic to talk to this summer. I can be reached through MySpace, Facebook, cell phone, home phone, and email. – Rachel Berry*

Berry, it was f'ing awesome making out with you this year. Wish we'd done it sooner and more often. Sorry again for the slushies. Hope you're happy with Hudson. Hey, don't change too much for him, alright? – NP

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><p>'11 Thunderclap<p>

Noah, I don't think I need to tell you how much you mean to me. You have been and continue to be one of my closest and most reliable friends. One more year, Noah! Then we're going to take the world by storm. – Rachel Berry*

My Hot Little Jewish American Princess, are you, me, Finn, Kurt and the Warbler still on for the Lima Bean this weekend? Lauren has some stupid wrestling tourney. Text me. – NP P.S. LZ is PISSED that she found another gold star stuck to my guns. You've gotta stop doing that shit, babe.

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><p>'12 Thunderclap:<p>

Noah, we've done it! We're BOTH leaving Lima! I knew you could do it if you made an honest attempt. You're so talented and the world won't know what hit it once you start making a name for yourself in New York. NEW YORK, Noah! We're going to New York City! When we get there, we'll have to coordinate schedules with Kurt and Blaine. We can't waste a single minute! – Rachel Berry*

Rachel, I don't know how I would've made it through the last three years without you. I really hope you honored your promise and waited until you got home to read this, although knowing you, you are standing on Satan's front lawn after the party, since I handed this to you on your way out. Sorry I kept it so long, but you know I suck at this kind of stuff. Thing is, Rach, even though you worked your ass off to help me get into CUNY, I don't think I can do it. Not that I'm not talented enough, because c'mon, I'm the Puckerone. But I don't know that I can stay in that Platonic Friend Zone you've put me in. You've asked me a few times this spring about why Quinn and I didn't "rekindle" our relationship after the "amazing and life-affirming closure" we got, but the truth is, Quinn saw something I didn't. She saw that I was ass over eyeballs for you, and she wasn't willing to play that game again. So I guess this is my pathetic attempt at telling you that I can't be your friend anymore, because I want more. I know you have dreams and goals and so much freaking talent, and I would never want to take any of that away from you. I just want to share it with you, and I can't see how that'd work out. If you couldn't make it work with Finn, you and me are doomed from the start. So I think it's better if maybe I just head to a different coast. LA's nice, right? Warm weather, beaches, hot babes. Hopefully (if you did wait until you got home) I'm already gone. Knowing you, we're about to have an epic fight in front of Santana's house. Either way, I love you, Rachel. – Noah


	2. The Fiancee Game

Thursday game night had become a sick little ritual that Rachel had somehow sweet-talked him into.

Puck wasn't sure how exactly she'd managed that considering (a) she wasn't his girlfriend, (b), she wasn't having sex with him, and (c) she wouldn't even make him dinner.

But every Thursday, Puck faithfully showed up and partnered with his crazy roommate. At least she was a decent partner, because Puck _hated_ to lose.

Tonight, however, was a different story. There was no fucking way he was down with whatever had Kurt Hummel zipping around the room.

"It's called The Fiancée Game! It's for" – pause for dramatic effect – "engaged couples."

Puck prayed to God right then and there that he would never again hear the high-pitched noise Rachel Berry emitted at that moment as she flung herself across the Blaine and Kurt's coffee table to practically strangle both guys in a hug.

Puck sent a commiserating glance at the other two people in the room, a relatively sane lesbian couple that lived in Kurt's building, but they were both grinning at Rachel's antics.

"God, Berry, let 'em breathe," Puck finally interjected, then offered a hand to Blaine. "Congrats, man. You too, Hummel."

"Oh, Kurt, Blaine, I'm just so happy for you! Engaged!" Rachel shook her hair back and sighed deeply as she regained her seat. "I can't wait to hear all your wedding plans. I still have some of my binders, since, well, you know." She turned to the other two women. "I was almost engaged once-"

"To my step-brother," Kurt interjected for the women, since obviously Puck and Blaine already knew that.

Rachel continued without missing a beat. "We planned our whole futures together." Her lower lip trembled before she resolutely firmed it and gave the room a winning (and fake ass) smile. "No offense, Kurt, but I hope he dies."

Puck glanced at Rachel, expecting another diatribe of how she'd wasted the best years of her life on Finn Hudson, and all she had to show for it was living in Puck's guest bedroom. But, oddly enough, she seemed finished. He turned back to their hosts. "We, like, don't have to actually play that, right? Because Berry and I are not engaged."

Kurt pouted a little.

"Not just dies, burns," Rachel muttered darkly next to him.

"And that's more than fucking okay with me," Puck added and rolled his eyes. It was just his luck to end up with the two biggest divas in New York City as his closest friends.

"I wanna step on his face with a golf shoe." That from the midget at his side.

Puck knew from a decade of dealing with Rachel Berry, there was only one way to drag her out of her self-involved pit: shock her. "That's very hostile. Hey, Berry, wanna get married?"

Rachel looked up, her brown eyes wide. "Sure, Noah!" she said brightly without even stopping to consider. "Why not? We already live together."

The game, as expected, sucked balls. Big hairy ones. But he and Berry cleaned up, kicking the asses of everyone around the table.

While Blaine tried to coax Kurt out of the bathroom with, "Of course, we should still get married. It was just a game!" Rachel wrapped her scarf around her throat while Puck held her coat open.

"Kurt, honey, I'll talk to you tomorrow!" Rachel called while slipping her arms into her coat sleeves, then mouthed an "I'm sorry" at Blaine who waved them out. In the hallway, Rachel grinned at Puck. "I know I _should_ be sorry for potentially ruining their engagement, but I just love winning!"

Puck laughed and moved his arm to accommodate hers as she wrapped her hand into the crook. "We make a kick-ass team, babe."

"We really do," she agreed, stepping into the elevator before him. "Sometimes we work so well together that it's like we've been married forever."

"You've been living with me for about two years, so in celebrity marriages that practically is forever." He smirked as she giggled.

"Maybe you should tell your mom that and she'd finally get off your back about us dating."

Puck considered it, and then shook his head. "Nah, she'd just get started on, 'Noah, when are you going to give me my awesome looking, musically talented, badass Jewish grandbabies?'"

Rachel laughed at his impression as they walked out onto the sidewalk, causing a few passer-bys to grin in their direction. "Is that how she describes your future children?"

"Nah, she just wants 'em Jewish. But face it: you and me together? If we had a kid? That's exactly what he'd be."

"Oh, Noah." Rachel rested her head on this arm for a moment as they continued walking.

Puck glanced down at her, concerned. This was the longest he'd heard her silent in nearly two years. "What's up, Rach?"

"Don't you think it's sad that the first time someone has asked me a question even remotely related to getting married – other than times including the words 'when are you' – was during a game?"

Puck thought about it for a moment. He moved his arm a bit to bump her head up so she'd look at him. "Finn's a moron, Berry. And you'll hear it. One day. And you'll be glad it wasn't Hudson who asked you."

"You can't know that, Noah."

He stopped to hold the door to their building open for her. As she passed him, he couldn't help himself. "Yes, I can, Rachel. Believe me."

And for the first time in ten years, Rachel Berry looked at him without Finn-colored glasses.

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><p><strong>For the "Boy Meets World" prompt<strong>:

Topanga: It's the Fiancee game. It's for engaged couples.

Rachel: Oh, I was almost engaged once. We planned our whole futures together. I hope he dies.  
>Eric: [to Cory and Topanga] We don't actually have to be engaged to play the game, do we?<br>Rachel: [rambling to self] Not just dies, burns...  
>Eric: [to Cory and Topanga] 'Cause that'd be okay with me.<br>Rachel: [rambling to self] I wanna step on his face with a golf shoe...  
>Eric: [cheerfully] That's very hostile. Will you marry me?<br>Rachel: Sure, why not? We already live together.


	3. Fight for Your Dreams

**Prompt: **Quit dreaming of your happily ever after and start fighting for it. Otherwise you'll be dreaming and life will pass you by.

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><p>If anyone ever accused Noah Puckerman of daydreaming, he'd probably have to punch them in the throat.<p>

But, fuck, if he couldn't help it sometimes. And lately, he seemed to be drifting off into his own world more often than not.

Mr. Schue goes on a ten-minute lecture about hair bands; Puck creates his own version of Jewels with the multi-colored floor tiles.

The conversation at the lunch table turns into Kurt-and-Blaine variety hour; Puck builds his tots into a mini-tower.

Santana starts bitching about – well, just about anything; Puck starts his own mental game of Survivor starring his fellow glee members. (FYI: he'd vote pretty much all of them off the island.)

But the worst – the very worst – was whenever Finn and Rachel started spinning around each other and crooning out a cheesy ballad. Because, for whatever reason, then his daydreams started featuring Rachel.

Had they just been the normal naked-girl-in-sexy-situations daydreams, Puck wouldn't have been so worried. He had those all the time, about nearly every girl he knew. But nothing concerning Rachel Barbra Berry could ever be normal.

So instead of racy daydreams about her rumored lack of a gag reflex, Puck dreamed about singing a duet with her in front of a cheering crowd at Nationals. He dreamed about walking down the hall with her arm tucked into his. He even frickin' fantasized about her wearing a little silver necklace that said "Noah".

If he could kick his own ass, he would.

One particularly rough day, he was sitting in Glee, watching Rachel and Finn sing out their love when an image of Rachel, dressed all in white, hit him in the solar plexus. (At least, Puck assumed that's where his solar plexus was; he did pay pretty close attention to the anatomy chapters in Biology, after all.)

It was like his dream – the very first one – of Rachel: dressed all in white, soft smile, Star of David resting at her throat. Only this time, instead of climbing in his window, she was walking through the doors of his temple.

And instead of lying in bed, he was standing in front of their friends and family, yarmulke perched over his 'hawk.

Rachel walked to him, her brown eyes big and shiny, and he couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

He saw her lips moving and slowly realized she had asked him something, but he only had two words on his mind.

"I do."

He saw confusion twist her smile and concern enter her eyes, and heard their friends laugh. "Noah, are you okay?"

Shaking off the daydream, Puck looked around the room and realized he'd spoken out loud.

Everyone was looking at him with varying degrees of puzzlement and amusement and some not-so-hidden hostility was radiating off Finn.

Puck thought quickly. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. I'm just really… I'm… Probably a bad batch of dip," he muttered lamely, sinking lower in his chair.

"Oooookay," Mr. Schue said. "Great job as always, Rachel and Finn. Now as for our setlist…"

And Puck was out again.

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><p>After Glee, Puck practically sprinted for the door, hoping to avoid all the concerned looks (from Rachel) and derision (from everyone else).<p>

Obviously, Coach Bieste hadn't pushed him hard enough this season, because by the time he made it out to his truck, Santana was waiting for him.

"Satan," he said coolly, tossing his bag into the bed.

She smirked at him. "Listen, Puckerman, I couldn't care less what goes on between Rachel and her darling Finnegan, but I know you're, like, invested in that drama. But I just want to tell you this: if you like her, you need to go for it."

Puck wanted to scoff, but the downside of having a former fuck buddy who was also basically the chick version of yourself was she knew when you were faking. "No way," he settled on instead. "Finn's my boy."

"That's cute and all," she said with no little amount of contempt, "but would you rather have that or would you rather have Rachel as your woman? Because while I'm sure in your mind, your bromance is legendary, fact is Finn won't put out. And he won't bear your Jewish seed. Nor will he wash your hair – which, yes, I know you still have your mom do from time to time."

She shook her head when he opened his mouth. "Let me finish. I know you're all 'my dad abandoned me and now I don't deserve anything good,' but you do, Puck. And I need to believe that you do, because if you do, then I do, too. So you need to quit dreaming of your happily ever after and start fighting for it. Otherwise you'll be dreaming and life will pass you by."

Puck thought about what she was saying, and then looked at Santana. "How about this: I start angling for Berry, and you and Britt stop dancing around and finally make it official."

He saw her face pale and her confidence falter, but then something caught her eye. Before Puck could turn to see what it was, Santana firmed her chin and nodded sharply. "You're on."


End file.
